I can’t say much in response since even I can admit Pops is a bit of a silver fox. No wonder his kids are so ridiculously attractive.
Meemaw squawks from the porch, “What’s that about my chickens? You better not be messing with Isadora. She’s got a show next week and I can’t have her looking tired and raggedy. She’s a shoo-in for the Feather Legged Bantams category!”
“Nobody’s bothering those evil things, Meemaw!” Dallas brushes dust from his jeans as he joins us by the truck. “Pops just has his panties in a twist because Shelby won’t charge him for today!”
“I told you that you can pay for the colostrum, didn’t I?” I pin Pops with my best schoolmarm look. BRD is no joke. It can wipe out an entire family business in no time flat. The last thing the Gambles need right now is a bill from me. To lose even a few head means a cut to their bottom line. While cattle aren’t the ranch’s only form of income, every bit counts.
“If y’all are getting hitched, you may want to talk to your better half about getting paid what she’s owed. You can’t survive on love alone.”
Dallas laughs as I close the door and lower my voice. “For Pete’s sake, Pops. You know we’re not really engaged.” Far as I can tell, nobody outside the family is on to us, and my pride wants to keep it that way.
“Don’t let Meemaw hear you. She’s already planning the reception. Expect feathers and weed.” Pops sends me a wicked grin that’s far too similar to his son’s.
“Sounds kinky.” Dallas winks, and the two men exchange identical laughs.
I cross my arms and nudge Dallas with my hip. “Did Dallas tell you he’s promised to find me the perfect man?”
“Well, shucks, Shelby.” Pops removes his hat and presses it against his chest. “I’m afraid my heart was claimed fifty years ago.”
I can’t help it. I pull the man into a hug. “Well, it’s no mystery where Dallas got his ego—or his sense of humor.” Pops cackles and hugs me back with one arm, returning his hat to its rightful place with the other. “Have Ridge call me when he gets back. I’ll be wanting to stop by the Kincaid’s after my rounds today.”
“Will do. Thank you, darlin’.”
“Anytime. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
I climb into the driver’s seat before Dallas has a chance to protest. Just as I’m pulling the door shut, Pops gets in one last comment, the old troublemaker.
“You know, Shelby, you could do a lot worse than my boy here. Just sayin’.”
Like I haven’t thought of that before. But Pops is a realist. He’s also a shit-stirrer.
“I will literally fight you for first dibs on your shower,” I say as soon as I’ve turned the truck around. “That showerhead is almost worth marrying.”
“Exactly what have you and my showerhead been up to, Ms. Sweet?” Dallas drawls from the passenger seat. When I respond with an eye roll, he continues, “Don’t think it escaped my attention that you’re driving this time.”
“Look at you using your eyes.” I carefully steer the truck over the gravel and dirt toward the east side of the property where Dallas’s house sits.
Although I gave him a hard time about driving like a grandpa earlier, the truth is I drive like a senior citizen myself. Always have. Too many ways things can go wrong.
Then, for some stupid reason—maybe to make up for my sarcasm—I make a confession he doesn’t need to hear. “One thing that always drove me nuts about Shane was his reckless speeding in that souped-up truck of his.” He always brushed me off when I’d ask him to slow down, assuring me he was an excellent driver.
“I’d ask you to confirm that his eyesore of a vehicle is compensating for something, but I honestly don’t need the mental image.” Dallas fakes a shudder as I pull to a stop in his driveway.
That has me laughing out loud, but Dallas’s next words shut me right the hell up.
“Shane clearly never realized how precious his cargo was.” And with that, he opens his door and hops out, boots hitting the drive with a crunch. “I’ll take the upstairs bathroom and leave you alone with my showerhead.”
“Well, Brad, don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.” Dallas wears a self-satisfied smirk as he watches my second potential Prince Charming of the month flee the scene.
He seemed like a nice guy, not that I was given very long to acquaint myself. Dallas doesn’t appear to have a firm grasp on the concept of matchmaking if his current strategy of grunting and being rude to all potential suitors is any indication.
I cross my arms over my chest and consider his smug face from my seat across from him. This time, it was just coffee and pie at Stuffin’ the Muffin, but Brad didn’t last even halfway through his first cup. “I don’t know whether to laugh or punch you in the face.”
Dallas casually sips his coffee like he hasn’t a care in the world. “Have you always been this violent, or are you upset you’re turning forty next week? I promise it’s not that bad.”
“That’s because when men age, they grow a few gray hairs that make them even more attractive. We women, on the other hand, grow full mustaches and need industrial-strength bras to keep our boobs off our kneecaps. Luckily, I’m not there yet, but I can feel my hormones starting to conspire against me.” Whenhe looks at me like a cornered antelope, I abandon the topic. “Stop trying to change the subject.” My elbow hits the table, and I ignore my chai latte. “What was wrong with Brad?”
Dallas appears downright flabbergasted at my question and eyes me like I’m two sandwiches short of a picnic. “Thank god I’m here because your character judgment is hopeless.”
